The End of the Millenium
by TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010
Summary: Ten years PostRENT. The Bohemians go through another year in the life. Rated because it's RENT.
1. A Day in the Life

**Disclaimer: Mr. Larson owns all of this**

**Italics are thoughts**

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Roger sat on the edge of the windowsill to the loft, mindlessly strumming his guitar. Sunlight dazzled through the windows, but today felt more like it should be cold and rainy. Mark had gone out filming for the day.

After a while, Roger gave up on his guitar, and he set it down on the floor. _Coffee…maybe that'll help._

He busied himself for the next ten minutes, making a pot of coffee on the lovely hot-plate Mrs. Cohen had given them a few years before. He poured himself a cup in his favorite ivory-colored mug, and resumed his position on the windowsill.

After taking a few sips, Roger sighed loudly. _Is this it? Is this what the rest of my life is going to be? Strumming the guitar and drinking coffee?_

They had lost Mimi a year ago, and while the wound had healed a little, it was still there. Mimi had made life interesting, if not worthwhile. While they had broken up a month or two after that fateful Christmas Eve, they had remained close friends, and knew in their hearts they still loved each other. They just thought a relationship caused them too many problems.

After Mimi died, Roger had started using heroin again, to keep his mind off of Mimi. It almost resulted in him killing Mark when he tried to take it away from him. After that episode, Roger realized he needed to stop. Withdrawal is always worse the second time, or at least it was for him, but Mark and Collins kept him going, and he was now clean of six months.

With no Mimi and no heroin, life seemed excruciatingly dull. It was the same routine every day. They would both get up and have a solitary bowl of Cap'n Crunch. Mark would gather up his camera, and mutter a "I'll be back soon." and disappear for the rest of the day. Roger would sit at the windowsill playing his guitar and stare out the window. Mark would come back about 10, they would either go to the Life or order take-out from the Life (if they had money), and then they would go to bed.

Roger needed something. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he needed something. He loved his friends, he loved his guitar, and he loved his coffee. But it just didn't seem enough for him. Maybe a new girl? Maybe start up a band? Roger didn't know, but he knew he needed to find something to do before he lost his mind.

He shook his head a little, and stretched and yawned from his sitting position. He hadn't slept well the other night. Roger didn't know why, but he started having recurring dreams of Mimi. They weren't necessarily nightmares, but once he awoke from them, he couldn't get back to sleep.

He sighed and walked to his bedroom, deciding he needed a nap.

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**Not exactly sure where I'm going with this, but we'll see…**

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**

**:D**


	2. Goodbye Love

**Ok, for those of you who were worrying, I know where this will go!**

**Yes, this is a flashback chapter, but because of that, I am posting two chapters today!**

**Anyways, thanks for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!**

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_**FLASHBACK**_

"Hey, Rog!" shouted "The Well Hungarians" manager, Hugh. "It's your friend, Mark!"

The band stopped playing. There were groans from the drummer and bassist, as well as choruses of "These are precious practicing hours!" and "No calls during practice!"

Roger shrugged it off, knowing it was probably some stupid thing like Mark had seen this really cool hobo on the street or something. The Well Hungarians had come to L.A. for a few weeks to record their first album.

Roger took the phone from Hugh. "What, Mark? I'm in practice right now!" Roger said with as much annoyance as possible.

There was a choked sigh on the other end. "Roger…it's…it's Mimi. Roger…she died…"

Roger felt his heart stop. _No…she was fine when I left…_

"She got sick over the last couple days…doctor said she'd be ok, that's why I didn't call you…but then she was real bad this morning and…she's gone…" Mark said slowly. He was obviously trying to hold back tears.

Roger sank into one of the chairs. He felt tears come to his eyes, but he couldn't break down right now. "When's the funeral?"

"Tomorrow…"

"I'll be there," Roger said softly and he hung up the phone. He heaved a shaky sigh, and turned back to his band mates.

"Friend died…Need to go back to New York for a couple days…Call you when I get there…" he said almost inaudibly, before grabbing his jacket and walking out of the recording studio.

**Insert line here**

"So full of life, Meems was. Perfect for girl talk, too. Whenever Pookie and I had a fight, she'd come over with that kick-ass fudge she made and vodka, and we'd laugh and cry the whole night…I think she was the only one of us who thought I wasn't completely insane…We love you, Meems…"

"I was jealous of her for a while…her and Angel seemed so close, I actually thought they were dating when I first met them…she was like a little sister to me…always getting into to trouble, but always having fun, too…she never gave up on any of us, and she was really there for me when Angel died…Love ya, girl…"

"There was this time when she went out with me filming while Roger was doing a gig…and on the way there I was complaining that the homeless people I film gave me dirty looks and made my films so dreary…such a stupid thing to complain about, but Mimi took it in stride and she introduced herself to random homeless people, and by the end of the day I got footage of her having a hilarious conversation, feeing the pigeons, and even dancing and singing with the homeless…That was one of the best filming days I've ever had…We got really close after that Christmas Eve, and I'm so glad…We all are…."

After Maureen, Collins, and Mark finished their eulogies, Roger slowly got up from the pew and made his way up to the altar, guitar in hand.

He sat comfortably on the steps, swallowed his tears, and played the melody of "Without You."

_Without you,_

_The ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows…_

_Without you,_

_the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play…_

_The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly without you._

_The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die without you._

_The world revives, colors renew. But I know blue, only blue, lonely blue, within me blue._

_Without you._

The people in the church stood up and began to sing a counter melody with Roger.

_Without You – There's only us_

_the hand gropes, - There's only this_

_the ear hears, - Forget regret_

_the pulse beats – Or life is yours to miss_

_Life goes on – No other road_

_But I'm gone – No other way_

_But I die without you – No day but Today_

_I die without you – No day but Today_

_I die without you – No day but Today_

_I die without you – No day but Today_

_I die without you – No day but Today_

_I die without you – No day but today_

_No day but today_

The last notes of the song rang throughout the church long after the song was over. Nobody moved. Finally, Roger walked over to where the coffin was. He kissed his fingers, and pressed them on the picture of Mimi that was on top of the coffin.

"Goodbye, Meems."

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**I'm sure most of you are mad that Roger didn't sing "Your Eyes" but I kind of wanted the funeral to be similar to Angel's, you know, with the mixing two songs…I don't know…**

**It'll pick up soon, I promise!**

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	3. Hey Mister

**This is not a flashback chapter!**

**Let's all say "Yay" together.**

**:D**

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Mark shuffled briskly up the steps to his loft. On days like these, he was glad the new landlord, Jeff, was kind enough to keep the heat going in the tenant house.

As he opened the door to their loft, he saw Roger, sitting in the exact same position he was when Mark had gone filming.

"Hey," said Mark before setting his camera down.

"Hey," was the somber reply.

There was an awkward silence between the two. Mark walked over to the coffee table, pretending to organize the papers cluttering the peeling oak table.

"Got some good shots of Tent City today…met some nice homeless people for a change…" said Mark as he made a weak attempt at humor.

Unsurprisingly, Roger didn't crack a smile. Mark sighed and didn't say anything else, figuring they were both used to the stony silence between each other.

It wasn't like they were mad at each other. It's just life had become so monotonous over the past year, it seemed neither of them had anything to talk about.

After Mark shuffled papers around for an hour, he finally looked at his watch. "Better get to the Life…Everyone will be there…"

Roger cocked his head to the side a little. "Why?"

Mark gave Roger an incredulous look. "It's Christmas Eve…"

Roger raised his eyebrows. He couldn't believe he had actually forgotten Christmas Eve. This time of year seemed to be fatefully eventful for the Bohemians, and it seemed this would be the first year nothing out of the ordinary would happen.

Roger sighed and figured he could leave his precious "thinking" spot for a couple hours. He slipped on his leather jacket, and wordlessly the two roommates headed towards the Life.

Roger was mindlessly trailing behind Mark, when suddenly, in a flash of green and grapes, he found himself on the ground.

Roger shook his head a little, then realized he had bumped into a young woman carrying four bags of groceries. Food was strewn everywhere.

"Hey! Thanks a lot, buddy!" the woman said irritably.

"Sorry…sorry…" muttered Roger.

The woman sighed and began to pick up the groceries. "Great…I'm already late for the babysitter and now some idiot bumps into me, making me even more late…" she muttered under her breath.

Roger felt bad, and started to help the woman pick up her groceries. "Here…" he said as he handed her a can of baby food and finally met eye to eye with her.

She was beautiful. She had long, wavy raven hair that flowed down her back. Her eyes were full of fire and sass, but Roger could see a bright twinkle in her emerald-green eyes. His own eyes couldn't help but continue to look down her body. Her curvy body seemed to glow.

"Mister…you're staring at my tits," she said impatiently.

Roger snapped his head up, turning a fiery shade of red.

"Uh…I wasn't -…" he stuttered.

She sighed. "Oh, just help me with my groceries, would you?"

Roger said nothing and frantically scooped up everything he could handle, trying hard not to look at her. Finally, they picked up everything and Roger handed her the last bag.

"Look…" Roger started. _Come on, Davis. You've had beautiful girls throw themselves at your feet before…'Course none of them caught you staring at their tits…which are perfectly shaped by the way…_ "…let me buy you cup of coffee or something…"

The woman giggled smugly. "I really should be getting home…" She started to turn away.

Roger wasn't giving up that early. "Oh, come on…Let me at least make it up to you."

She sighed and turned around slowly. "Make it a beer and you've got a deal."

Roger smiled coolly and flipped his long bangs in his face a little. "Sounds good to me."

The woman walked up to him and stuck out her hand. "The name's Maddox. Melanie Maddox."

Roger took it and shook it warmly. "Roger Davis."

There was a slight pause, and Melanie adjusted the bright green scarf around her neck. "Is there a phone where we're going? I'll need to call the babysitter…"

Roger nodded.

"Good. Let's go then."

They soon reached the Life Café.

"I better not catch you staring at my tits, ass, or any sexually-enhanced body part of mine, or I'm leaving," Melanie said before going in.

Roger chuckled and replied, "I'll try to control myself."

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**Hehe. Now we're going somewhere!**

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	4. Goodnight Davis

**I love writing full stories again!**

**Reviews are lovely!**

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After Melanie was hastily introduced to everyone, and a few banters to Roger that he had finally found a new girlfriend, everyone got settled and had a rowdy, but fun evening.

Roger walked Melanie home. She lived in the far end of the East Village, but Roger didn't mind.

"I had a great time tonight. You're not too bad, Davis. Not too bad," Melanie said teasingly as they reached the entrance to her apartment.

Roger chuckled a little. "I'm glad I was able to redeem myself."

Melanie rummaged in her purse, and pulled out a permanent marker. Then she took Roger's arm and wrote what seemed like her phone number on it.

"You better not wash it off, because I'm giving it to you again," she said seriously, but a smile played at her lips.

Roger nodded. There was an awkward silence between the two.

Melanie uncomfortably adjusted her hold on her groceries. "Well…goodnight, then."

She leaned forward hesitantly, then gave Roger a quick kiss on the cheek and headed into her apartment without another word.

Roger knew and took this as more of a friendly gesture, but he felt himself turn fiery red again. He had never felt like this since Mimi asked for him to light her candle. He smiled a little and headed back home

Roger and Melanie had a few more dates, but Roger was hesitant to start a relationship. He had the feeling he only liked Melanie because her personality was similar to Mimi's. He also wasn't sure how Melanie's daughter, Allie, was going to take them dating. Apparently, Melanie's fiancé had taken off when Allie had been born. Roger wouldn't do anything of that sort, but didn't want a huge commitment either.

Things got tense one time when Roger was walking Melanie home from one of their dates.

"So, we're on for next Thursday, then?" Roger asked on Melanie's front doorstep.

"Yep. Sounds good," said Melanie, but she seemed to be nervous about something.

There was an uncomfortable silence, but there was a definite tension. There was not much room in front of the apartment building, so Roger and Melanie only had a foot of space in between them.

Roger shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Well…goodnight." He hesitantly gave Melanie a kiss on her cheek.

For some reason though, he didn't pull away instantly, and before he knew it, the two were inches away from kissing each other.

Just as their noses touched each other, Roger lost his confidence.

"Melanie…" he said softly "I'm sorry…I can't do this…" He pulled away slowly from her.

"Why not?" Melanie said with annoyance. When Roger didn't say anything, she instantly knew why.

"Because of Mimi, right?" Melanie said, and exasperation and anger filled her eyes. She had been accidentally informed about Mimi and her relationship with Roger, and it had been a touchy subject with her ever since.

"No…it's not about her…it's just-"

"You still love her, don't you?" Melanie cut in, voice quaking with rage. "Jesus, Roger! The woman's dead! I can't believe I'm competing with a dead person for a guy…"

"That's not it, Melanie…it's just…I haven't been in a relationship since her…and –"

Melanie shook her head and turned toward the door. "Just forget it, Davis. Goodnight…"

Roger started to turn away, then realized his own stupid actions. _What's wrong with you? She's right! What are you so worried about starting a relationship again? That you'll lose her? She doesn't have AIDS! God, Roger, do something!_

"Melanie, wait…" said Roger as he walked back towards to door.

Melanie didn't turn around. "I said just forget it, Davis. What do you not – "

Roger had cut her off by taking both of her shoulders and turning her to face him. Then he cupped one of his hands on the side of her face and kissed her.

They pulled apart for a second, then Melanie dropped her bags, and threw her arms around Roger's neck, kissing him passionately.

They would've continued until they heard a muffled cry from inside the apartment. Melanie winced and pulled apart from Roger reluctantly.

"It's Allie…probably just another nightmare or something…"

Roger nodded, then, before he could stop himself, wrapped his arms around Melanie's waist and pulled her in for another kiss.

"Davis…" Melanie moaned as Roger nuzzled her neck, "I really have to go…"

Roger sighed and detached himself from her grudgingly. He put on his best little kid's face. "Fine."

Melanie giggled and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Davis." Melanie kissed him again on the lips, and they continued for a while. Finally, when Melanie heard Allie crying again, she pulled herself away from Roger, flashed a smile at him, and went into her apartment.

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**Sorry it's kind of short…**

**Oh, but drama shall soon ensue!**

**Lovely reviews, thank you!!**

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	5. The Other Shoe Drops

**Sorry for the long updates :P**

**I like this story, don't you?**

**Yep…**

**Reviews are my boyfriend!**

**Italics are thoughts.**

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Roger shuffled into the loft, and by the look Mark and Collins were giving him, he must have still been grinning stupidly from when he walked Melanie home.

"So…how was your date, Mr. Lover Boy?" asked Mark teasingly.

Roger sighed and plopped onto their duct-taped couch. All he did was shrug and shake his head, remaining speechless.

Collins giggled uncontrollably. _Must be high…_Roger thought to himself. "Aww…he wants to _**kiss**_ her…he wants to _**love**_ her…"

Roger picked up a pillow and chucked it Collins' head, but he was laughing.

"He hasn't been this happy since that Christmas Eve with Mimi…" Mark chuckled.

All of them stopped laughing for a moment. Remembering the vivacious dancer was still a bittersweet memory.

Collins sighed and joined his friend on the couch. "So, any baggage come with this chick?"

"Not really," Roger answered, "She has a four year old kid, but that's not a huge issue, I guess."

Collins shook his head and grinned. "So you managed to find yourself a girl without AIDS this time. Nice work!" 

Roger slapped his arm playfully. Then his expression changed violently, as though he had just heard some crushing news.

Mark looked at him curiously. "What's wrong, Rog?"

Collins, unconcerned, lit up a joint. "Probably realizing his fucking abilities at her apartment are limited 'cause of the kid…"

Roger didn't laugh. His face crumpled, and he put his head into his hands.

Collins, realizing Roger wasn't playing around, put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "What's the matter, man?"

Roger didn't pick his head up. "I haven't told her I have AIDS yet…"

"Aw, shit…" Mark muttered under his breath.

Collins groaned. "Is the sort of chick who would…leave you? For something like that?"

Roger shrugged. "I don't know…I don't think so, but hell, I've only known her for a month or two…"

Collins wrapped his arm around Roger. "You look pretty beat, man. Worry about it later."

Roger nodded. Then he sighed, mumbled a goodnight to Collins and Mark, then headed off to bed.

Mark sighed and sat down on the couch next to Collins.

"Poor guy…" Collins said quietly.

Mark nodded, but he was thinking otherwise in his head. _At least he GETS girlfriends…Look at me, eleven years after my last long-standing girlfriend, still the witness, still the passerby, still the filmmaker…_

Mark sighed loudly. He didn't understand. Collins was technically in the same position he was. He hadn't dated anyone seriously since Angel, however, he didn't want to. But Collins seemed perfectly happy single. _Why can't I?_

Mark stood up. "I'm going to the Life…"

"Why?" asked Collins.

Mark didn't answer him for a moment, then he took his scarf off the chair, wrapped it around his neck, and walked towards the door.

"To think."

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**Next chapter will be more with Mark and probably some Maureen, Benny, and Joanne, too.**

**Sorry for the short chapters!**

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	6. This Isn't Goodbye

**Sorry for not updating, I'm having some writer's block issues.**

**Hope you still love the story, and thanks for reviewing.**

**Italics are, once again, thoughts.**

**If you got to see Adam and Anthony lately on Broadway, I am SO JEALOUS!**

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Mark stared into his cup of herbal tea. It was steaming, so it fogged up his glasses. He sighed and leaned back a bit, taking off his glasses to wipe them off with his shirt.

He looked around the café with disgust.

A couple in the corner were giggling hysterically and drinking a shake.

Mark turned his head the other direction, and saw another couple kissing lightly over a tofu burger.

Mark shook his head with exasperation, glancing towards the bathrooms, one place where maybe somebody wasn't kissing.

Unfortunately, he could see a couple teenagers looking like they were going to undress any second now.

Mark groaned loudly and banged his head on the table.

"Rough day?" said a sweet voice somewhere above his head.

He didn't lift his head. The waitress above him thought she heard a grunt in agreement.

The waitress giggled and left. She came back later with a brand new steaming cup of herbal tea. "Here, this one's on me."

Mark picked his head up finally, but his glasses slid down to the end of his nose. He scrunched his face up, trying to see who did this gracious deed. All he could see was dark skin, dark hair, and a bright smile.

He mumbled a thank you and pushed his glasses back on his face. However, the waitress had left. He looked around for her, but could not find her.

After he finished his tea, he left on the table what little money he had left for a tip. Then he scurried over to the maitre'd.

"Erm…did you see the waitress who served me?"

The maitre'd glanced behind him, then pointed to her. "That's Asha."

Mark finally got a good look at her. She was stunning African-American girl. Her hair was in dreads, but it was pulled up into a cute, funky knot. Hot pink highlights streaked her hair. She was wearing glasses similar to his, but they were a deep red color. She gave off an artsy vibe.

"Thanks…"Mark said quickly to the maitre' d and made his way over to her.

Mark had never been good with girls, especially good-looking ones. But Mark figured the least he could do was thank her for the free tea.

He tapped her lightly on the shoulder, and cleared his throat.

_Ok, Cohen...You can do this…_

"Excuse me," he started, "I just wanted to thank you for the cup of tea…"

Asha gave him a dazzling smile. "No problem. I like to take care of my customers. I love your scarf by the way!"

Mark giggled nervously. Asha walked over to his table, and picked up his meager tip.

Mark turned fiery red. _Great…Now she thinks I'm a skeez who doesn't tip well…_

He sighed loudly. "Well…I guess I'll…see you around, then?"

Asha gave him another smile, _but was it slightly less enthusiastic? _"Yeah…see you around!"

Mark made his way out of there as fast as his legs could carry him.

**Insert line here! (same day)**

"WE LOVE YOU, MAUREEN!"

The thousands of people that packed Madison Square Garden screamed in agreement. Maureen flashed them all a smile, then walked off the stage.

About twenty people, all stylists, publicists, assistants, rushed toward the performance artist.

"Gina, get me my Evian, please. Jacob, I'm going to need more makeup before I go out there again, for god's sake, I look like a fucking ghost. Pam, tell the stage people to tone the lights down a little bit, we're not a in greenhouse here, are we?"

Gina, Pam, and Jacob all gave rushed, but obedient "Yes, Ms. Johnson," and scurried off to do their jobs.

"Oh yeah, and can someone tell me where the hell Joanne is?" Maureen shouted over all the chaos.

Brenda, Maureen's personal assistant, piped up instantly. "She's in the front row, Seat 2A, Ms. Johnson-"

"Maureen! Please, you call me Ms. Johnson, I feel like I'm fifty…"

"Umm, yes uh…Maureen. I just called her cell and she coming up here immediately."

"Hey, honey," panted Joanne as she ran as fast as she could in a tight, fire-engine red dress that came down to mid-thigh.

"Hey, Pookie," replied Maureen as she kissed Joanne. "You look hot."

Joanne thanked her by deepening the kiss, while Maureen's people stood there, awkwardly watching.

"Maureen! Maureen, NBC News!" shouted a reporter down the hallway.

Maureen pulled apart from Joanne and rolled her eyes. Then she changed her face dramatically, putting on a flashy smile, and turned toward the reporter.

"Hi!" Maureen said bubbly, just as Jacob had told her to.

"What's it like to be back in your hometown?" asked the reporter.

"Well," started Maureen, thrown off a bit by the large camera being pushed into her face "it's fantastic. It's SO great to be back in New York!"

"What else are you planning to do this month while you're here?"

"Well, of course I'm performing at Central Park on March 17th, then on the 15th I'll be on Conan that evening. But mostly I'll be catching up with some old friends and family…and…whatever!" Maureen finished with a flourish.

After a few more tedious questions, Maureen was finally pulled away from the reporters to get ready for her next set.

As Joanne sat on the other side of her, flipping a magazine, she asked "Are you actually planning on catching up with the guys?"

Maureen looked extremely confused. "What?"

"You said you were going to see some old friends while you were here."

"Oh," Maureen shrugged, "I supposed to say that mushy crap…but I guess it would be nice to see Mark and those guys again…it's been so long…"

_**FLASHBACK**_

"Don't worry, guys…we'll come back!"

Maureen tried to reassure her friends standing in front of her at JFK, but she could see the tears sliding down Mimi's face. She also felt tears coming to her eyes.

Maureen had made a name for herself as a performance artist, but the contract required her to live in Los Angeles for at least a few years. Of course, Joanne, her partner, would be going with her.

As Joanne hugged Mimi, she felt a pang of guilt. The dancer felt so small in her arms, and as she pulled away, her face was sallow and pale. Her brown eyes were no longer bright and full of life. Joanne could tell Mimi was dying.

When Joanne gave Roger a hug, she whispered in his ear "Take care of her, Rog."

Roger's eyes filled with worry and sadness, knowing exactly who she was talking about, but he nodded.

Maureen surprised herself. She knew she was going to break down but it was still a surprise as she went to hug Mark, she found she couldn't control herself anymore.

Maureen broke into to heartbroken sobs. Mark wasn't expecting this either, but he just stroked her hair and shushed her gently.

As Maureen finally pulled away, Mark kissed the top of her forehead. "This isn't goodbye."

Maureen gave a choked sob in reply. She thought this was probably goodbye for Roger, Mimi, and Collins. She tried to hug and kiss them all as long as possible, especially Mimi. She knew for sure this was the last time she would see her friend alive.

Finally Maureen and Joanne picked up their suitcases and headed onto the plane. Both of them turned around, and the others gave them sad little waves. Maureen blew kisses.

As her friends grew out of sight, Maureen kept chanting to herself. "This isn't goodbye…This isn't goodbye…"

_**END FLASHBACK**_

Maureen and Joanne had of course seen them all at Mimi's funeral, but that had been almost two years ago.

Maureen turned to face Joanne in her chair. "You know what? We should go see them. Tomorrow."

Joanne nodded. "What time?"

"Not too early. Mark never gets up before eleven…" Maureen giggled.

"Maureen! You're up!" interrupted the stage manager.

Maureen sighed and reluctantly adjusted her microphone. As she stood waiting to go on, hearing the screams of her fans, she still remembered that Christmas Eve ten years ago. She remembered looking out into the small crowd of homeless and starving artists, and seeing the bright, vibrant faces of her friends, smiling back at her.

She missed all of them, and she seriously thought about blowing off her last set to go see them right now. But she figured she would get Jacob on her ass about it, so the thought of seeing her friends pushed her through the her last performance of the night.

**Insert line here!**

"Honey…slow down!"

"I can't! I can't!" giggled Maureen as she pulled Joanne toward the familiar tenant building on the corner of Avenue A. Maureen had convinced Joanne to see their friends after her show.

Maureen and Joanne sprinted up the stairs towards the loft. Maureen knocked on the door loudly three times.

There was no answer. Unfazed but a little worried, Maureen knocked harder.

No answer. Maureen pounded as loud as she could, probably waking up the tenants next door with the loud, metallic sound the door made.

There was a muffled groan inside. "I'm coming! I'm coming! Jesus Christ…"

Shuffling and annoyed muttering was heard, then the door slowly stood open. Roger stood there, hair wild, wearing only boxers.

As soon as the door was wide enough, Maureen jumped into Roger's arms. He stumbled back violently.

"What the –" shouted Roger, not realizing who it was.

Then he saw Joanne standing next to him, grinning widely. Roger laughed sleepily and wrapped his arms around Maureen.

"Hey, Mark! Collins! Get your asses up, we have company!" he shouted behind him.

Roger went to go hug Joanne, but was nearly run over by Maureen who saw Mark come out of the bedroom, also only in boxers.

"MARKY!"

Mark grinned from ear to ear as Maureen threw herself into his arms.

After the group happily reunited, they all sat down on the couch.

"So? How's L.A.?" asked Collins.

Joanne shrugged. "It's fine…"

There was a long silence.

"But what?" asked Mark, sensing there was more.

Maureen looked at them and smiled. "But it's not home."

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**Well, there you go for those of you who were waiting for the others to come in.**

**I'll try to update more often, I swear!**

**Love it? Let me know! Hate it? Let me know, but nicely please! (lol).**


	7. Surprises and Secrets

**Thank you all for your reviews!**

**Keep 'em coming!**

**Does anyone have suggestions for another story? I'm always looking to write more! **

**Once again, italics are thoughts.**

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It was a beautiful spring day as Mark walked happily down Avenue B. Having the crazy drama queen back in town had certainly made life more interesting. Of course, Maureen and Joanne could've stayed in the best hotel suite in the city if they wanted to, but they decided to stay in Mimi's old apartment and borrowed some sleeping bags from Mark and Roger.

As he passed the small alleyways, he heard soft, muffled crying. He stopped and looked back. There was a huddled figure scrunched against the brick wall.

As Mark got closer, he recognized the distinctive highlights and the dreads. It was Asha!

"Hey…are you ok?" Mark asked as he squatted down beneath her.

Asha looked up, dark makeup running down her cheek and her eyes filled with resentment and anger.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine…it's just my boyfriend's a dick."

Mark cracked a smile and helped her to her feet. Asha wiped her tears and put her glasses back on.

_Make your move, Cohen._

"So…can a get you a…cup of tea?"

"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't really…know you…" Asha said nicely, but firmly as she wiped her hands on her waitress apron.

Mark felt utterly rejected and a little hurt. _Am I that forgettable?_

"You…don't remember me-"

Recognition sparked in her eyes and a smile spread across her face. "You! I remember you! I gave you the free tea that one time!"

Mark nodded and grinned sheepishly.

Asha playfully slapped her forehead. "I'm sorry, you must think I'm such a jerk-"

"No! No, not at all!" Mark jumped in instantly.

She giggled. "Well, in THAT case, I would love a cup of tea."

Mark nodded and plucked up the courage to offer his hand. She took it graciously and followed him into the Life Café.

**Insert line here!**

"So, he refuses to get up off his ass and find a job, then blames me for spending money on myself to buy new work clothes!"

Mark nodded sympathetically, but only stared into his tea. _Does she expect me to give her advice?_

As soon as they both sat down in a booth, Asha had poured out her soul to Mark. Apparently, Asha's "dick" boyfriend was named Ben (coincidentally enough), who refused to give her any sort of support, financially or emotionally.

She had been babbling for about an hour, not even noticing she had gone through four cups of tea already.

"I mean, is that too much to ask for? New work clothes? Something I could actually use?"

Mark didn't reply, not knowing what to say. Asha took notice of this.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Mark…God, I've been rambling forever, haven't I?"

Mark chuckled, but silently agreed.

Asha sighed and leaned back into the cushy booth. "I'm sorry…I just needed to rant a little, you know?"

"I understand," Mark reassured knowingly. He knew Asha probably wouldn't have bared her soul to someone she'd only met a few times unless she was really upset.

She rubbed her temples and moaned with frustration. "I don't know what I'm going to do, though…"

"Dump him," Mark said immediately.

A sad smile twitched at the ends of her mouth. "That's what I would do…if I didn't love him."

_Shit._

She stared wistfully into her cup of tea. "I guess I'll get over it…" she mumbled.

_No! Tell him he's a jackass and leave him!_

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Asha pulled out her purse, rummaged for a few, crumpled dollar bills, and then placed it on the table. "Thanks for listening. And the tea. It really helped."

Mark forced a smile. _She only likes you as a friend. Nothing more._

Then she did something Mark was not expecting. She looked through her purse again, and pulled out a ripped piece of paper and a pen.

"Let me give you my number, and maybe we could hang out sometime!" she said as she scribbled down her number and gave it to Mark.

He tried not to take it too eagerly, but he couldn't help but feel giddy as he stuffed the number into his jacket pocket.

Asha leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek. "See you, Mark." Then she pulled on her coat and walked out of the Life.

Mark felt the room grow uncomfortably hot, but then again he also felt lighter than air.

Another waiter came by and asked him if he wanted anything else.

But Mark didn't hear him. He knew he looked stupid with a wide smile emblazoned on his face, but he didn't care.

**Insert line here!**

"Davis…" moaned Melanie. She arched her neck backward as Roger kissed her neck gently, lips brushing against her smooth skin.

Tonight they were at her apartment, mostly because Maureen and Joanne were basically residing at the loft. While Melanie and the others had had a fun night with the pair, Roger and Melanie managed to escape for a few hours to her place. They couldn't be too loud, otherwise they'd wake Allie, but that was only a small issue.

Roger's hand slid carefully up her blouse, then he seamlessly undid the buttons and threw the shirt off to the side.

Melanie retracted from her sitting position to lying down fully on the couch. She passionately stroked his hair as he kissed her stomach fervently.

Just before Melanie thought they were about to go a bit further, Roger stopped abruptly. It was odd, as though he seemed he didn't want to stop, but like he had to.

Roger sat up reluctantly. Melanie followed suit.

"What's wrong? Am I not sexy enough for you tonight?" she asked as she playfully wrapped her bare leg around his hip.

Surprisingly to her, he shook it off and faced frontward. "I'm just not in the mood."

"Oh, come on, Davis-"

"I'm not in the mood. Alright?" he said with a forcefulness that worried her.

Melanie was not stupid. She knew something was up.

"Roger…" she said seriously, moving closer to him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just…don't think we're ready for that yet."

"Not ready? Roger, we're not teenagers here. We've been dating for four months. I think it's ok-"

"We're not ready." Roger said firmly, ending the discussion.

Melanie sighed, obviously disappointed. "Ok."

After that, Melanie slipped her blouse and jeans on wordlessly. Roger gathered his coat, which was lying across the chair next to them, and walked toward the door.

"I'll see you later," he said vacantly, kissing her lightly. Without another word, he left her apartment.

Melanie checked on Allie, trying to get her mind off what just happened. But when she found her sleeping peacefully, she was forced to be left with her thoughts.

Melanie had talked to Mark and the others. _Roger obviously likes sex, and he likes it often. So, why, after dating seriously for four months, have we not done it? Was this another thing to do with Mimi again? Or was this something else?_

Melanie knew Roger was keeping something from her. So many times he had told her he was not in the mood. She had accepted it the first couple times, but now she getting impatient.

Still dissatisfied, Melanie changed her clothes and fell into a restless sleep.

**Insert line here**

Roger felt terrible as he shuffled back to his apartment. He hated lying to Melanie. It wasn't fair to her, and she deserved someone who would be good and honest to her.

But he couldn't quite seem to tell her the truth. Telling her he had AIDS would be painful for both of them, and he wasn't sure how Melanie would deal with it.

He knew he had to tell her sometime, and sometime was soon. First of all, he was starting to fall in love with her, and he knew what happened when you suppressed your feelings from someone you love. He could also tell she was starting to get suspicious and impatient, and he didn't blame her.

_But how do I tell someone I love I have a fatal disease?_

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**I'm really sorry if any of you were confused earlier…I had Melanie's daughter be named Allie in one chapter and Angie in another.**

**Her name is Allie. So sorry for the mistake.**

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	8. Why Her?

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The pain seared across her face as his fist collided with her jaw. His blow sent her to the ground, smacking her head against the cold, linoleum floor.

Her sweet, irony blood poured from her mouth, making it impossible to scream or yell. She crouched there for a moment, trying to breathe, when his heavy boot collided with her stomach.

Again, she found her cheek pressed to floor. Now, she felt paralyzed. The kick to her stomach had definitely cracked a few ribs, and her head spun from the throbbing pain. She doubled over retching, feeling she was about to be sick. She turned to face him, looking into his enraged, crazed face. She couldn't talk, let alone breathe normally, but she begged with her deep, brown eyes to stop.

She thought for a second, just a second, shame glinted in his pale, sky-blue eyes. But as soon as she saw it, it was gone. The Ben she knew and loved had not heard her plea to stop. The other Ben, the wasted, high, demented Ben had wiped the Ben she knew clean of any sort of love or compassion for her.

He forcefully laid a rough hand on top of her head, and grasped the now bloody dreads, dragging her across the floor and throwing her against the wall. She narrowly missed being pierced by the shattered remnants of the mirror falling beside her. She tried desperately to call for help, but the blood caught in her throat, preventing her frantic cry from escaping her mouth.

Suddenly, by some miraculous stroke of luck, sirens wailed in the distance. The anger and hate that had resided so comfortably in Ben's eyes were instantly replaced with fear. He ran into the bedroom, and Asha heard the click of the lock behind him.

She knew the ambulances were not coming for her, but nonetheless she thanked whoever decided to have an emergency in that moment. She pulled herself towards the kitchen table, feeling around and grasping the cordless phone lying on top.

Asha needed to get out before Ben would realize the danger was over. She could only think of one person to call. She came by another stroke of luck, that she happened to see this person today at the Café, ordering his normal cup of herbal tea, and he had given her his phone number. _That's the reason I'm in this mess. _Ben had found about their little outing, and gone absolutely nuts. She pulled out the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, and dialed the number.

She was overwhelmed with relief when she mercifully heard Mark's sleepy, gruff voice on the other end.

"Who the fuck is this? It's three o'clock for God's sake…"

"Mark…it's me…it's Asha," she managed to gasp.

Mark's tone changed entirely. "Hey…are you ok?"

His sleepy sincerity was enough to push her over the edge. Tears spilled freely down her face.

"I need…I need to get out…"

There was a bit of rummaging around the apartment. Soon, Mark came back on the line. "Give me your address."

She did, and Mark reassured her he be there in no time. She pleaded him one last time to get here as soon as possible, then she hung up.

Just that second, Ben reappeared from his room, more furious than ever.

"Did you call the cops?"

Asha didn't answer. She hadn't called the cops, but she had called for help.

Ben swiped his hand forcefully against her bruised cheek, causing her to yelp in pain.

"I SAID did you call fucking cops?" He said, voice quavering, his hand still raised.

"No! No…" she moaned, clutching on the arm of the wooden kitchen chair.

Ben breathed an uneasy sigh of relief, but didn't do anything else. The silence was deafening.

Finally, the squeak of his boots against the floor broke the hush as he turned to go back to his bedroom.

Bubbling rage filled Asha's stomach. _He beats the shit out of me...and he doesn't even say I'm sorry? HE DOESN'T HAVE THE FUCKING NERVES TO APOLOGIZE FOR THIS?_

Ignoring the screaming in the back of her head, Asha used all the energy she had left and stuck her leg out in front of Ben. It sent him spiraling towards the ground.

Ben groaned, rubbing his head. Asha, feeling nothing holding her back, grabbed the gun on the table, which Ben had beat her with earlier.

She climbed on top of him, slamming the barrel of the gun into the back of his head. Ben struggled, but Asha's sudden wrath had given her strength.

"Move and I'll shoot! DON'T THINK I WON'T," she wailed, pushing the gun deeper into his head.

Ben obliged without any question. She continued to hold the gun to his head, but her mind was swimming with possibilities.

_Should just kill him now and get it over with? He doesn't deserve to breathe. He doesn't deserve to LIVE for this… _

But her strength was weakening. _No…Killing him would just turn you into what he's become. No, you will not become him…_

Asha let the gun drop beside her as she collapsed against the side of the wall. Ben still did not move.

Mark soon appeared at the screen door, his eyes wide in horror at what he saw.

"Oh my god…" he said faintly, throwing open the door and rushing over to Asha.

Ben groaned loudly, and turned around to see who it was. Hate was brimming in his eyes.

"You SAID you didn't call the cops, you bitch!" he screeched as he lunged at her.

Mark forcefully pinned him down to the ground, pressing his face deep into the floor. "You touch her, and I tear you limb from limb." he said quietly, his voice shaking with fury.

Asha crawled over to the phone, and called 911.

After a while, Mark released Ben, who then sat up against the wall, his face expressionless. Mark edged over behind Asha, who was clutching the kitchen chair, sobbing uncontrollably.

Mark rested a hand gently on her shoulder, then he turned her around to face him and pressed her head into the crook of his neck.

He stroked her hair and whispered soothing words into her ear as the sirens began to wail outside.

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**Sorry for it being so short.**

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**Keep doing so!**


	9. Waiting for Devastation

**Thank you, again, for the reviews.**

**I've tried writing other Fics lately (for a different category), but I can't seem to write them correctly and some of the fans are a little…**

**Anyways, thanks for continuing to read the story, and you have no idea how much I appreciate you all D**

**I think I'll stick to RENT fics for now.**

**Sorry for not updating in a while.**

**Italics are thoughts**

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Asha was immediately rushed into the Emergency Room. Mark had stayed with her as long as he could, holding her hand, letting her know she was safe, but soon he was pushed into the waiting room.

Ben had been arrested at the scene, much to relief of Mark and Asha.

After calling the loft to let people know what was going on, he shuffled over to the waiting room, which was a vibrant shade of yellow, and slumped into one of the equally vibrant red chairs.

Mark hated hospitals. It wasn't just a general dislike, it was hatred. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the kind-faced nurses who may have lied to you through words but you could see the truth written all over their faces. Or maybe it was because of the waiting rooms, like this one, always bright and cheery when everyone in it was depressed or sad.

_Or maybe_ he grudgingly thought _you hate hospitals because most of your friends will spend their last days in here, weak and helpless._

A lively little girl sat down in the chair opposite of him. At first, she patiently stared at the floor. After a few minutes passed, however, she began to tap her toes on the floor rhythmically. When she got stern glares from others in the waiting room, she gave an indifferent shrug and bounced up in down in her chair a little. Then she turned to face Mark.

"What are you here for?" she asked, with a bit of accusation in her voice.

Mark, who had been fitfully dozing off, glanced around for the small voice that had woken him.

"Friend…" he mumbled, getting ready to doze off again.

"Oh. I'M here 'cause of my daddy."

"Oh." Mark tried to sound sympathetic, but he didn't have many emotions at four in the morning. Except sleepy, that is.

The little girl continued. "He's got some kind of tumor in his head, and he didn't really wake up this morning…"

"I'm sorry…" Mark said sincerely. Losing a father at this age would be unbearable.

However, the girl didn't seem to lose her bright energy. "But I know he'll be ok. I just KNOW he will…" she said, more to herself than Mark.

Mark's heart ached with pity. This little girl was obviously being strong for someone, perhaps a mother or a sister. While she seemed cheerful, he could tell an underlying tone of worry and frustration in her voice. He was sadly reminded of Mimi and Angel, who no matter what was thrown at them, told everyone it was going to be ok.

He wished he could do the same for his friends. He wished he could have told Angel everything was going to be ok, instead of hiding behind his camera and saying very little. He wished he could have told Mimi everything was going to be ok, instead of huddling in the waiting room, pretending to call people. He wished he could strong for his friends, like this little girl was.

Tears sprung at his eyes, but Mark swallowed them quickly. The little girl took notice.

Her striking hazel eyes grew wide. "Are you ok?" she asked with sincere concern.

"Yeah…Yeah…I'm fine…" Mark sniffed in reply.

Soon, a weary, depressed, middle-aged woman came panting through the glass doors. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was pale.

"I'm here, Mommy!" exclaimed the little girl, raising her hand and waving it.

The mother walked over to her daughter and kissed the top of her head.

"I met this man, Mommy! He's here 'cause of his friend!" the girl whispered into her mother's ear.

The mother barely glanced at Mark before giving her daughter a little shake.

"What did I tell you about talking to strangers? Come on, the doctor's waiting…"

She grasped her girl's hand and began to lead her towards the entrance doors to the hospital lobby.

"I hope your friend is okay!" the girl called behind her as she disappeared through the revolving doors.

Mark waved sadly back at the little girl. As soon as she was out of site, he closed his eyes, and prayed that someone or something would keep that girl's father living and healthy.

**Insert line here**

The morning sun dawned brightly through the windows of the hospital. Mark had restlessly slept in the waiting room after hearing from the doctor he would not be able to see Asha until visiting hours.

Mark realized there was no use trying to get more sleep, so he wandered through the halls until he came to the hospital cafeteria.

He scrounged up a stale bagel and cream cheese, and sat slouched over his meager breakfast at the bar table.

Mark glanced up every once in a while, only to see men and women in similar situations as he was. Tired, frustrated, and anxious. He couldn't imagine how Collins had done it while Angel was in the hospital. Spending hours with a dying loved one, then wandering around only to find others in the same predicament.

Mark thankfully realized visiting hours had started, quickly finished the last few crumbs of his bagel, and scurried out of the cafeteria.

He hurriedly asked the nurse manning the desk which room Asha was in, then sprinted up the steps to room 1204.

He gave a soft knock on the door, to which he heard a frail, ragged voice reply "Come in."

He gradually opened the door, and tried not to look horrified when he saw Asha, who was smiling a watery, feeble smile at him.

He had, of course, been with her last night, but he hadn't really taken in the incredible injuries Asha had received. The left side her face was swollen, and was a sickly green color from the bruising. Her arm was slung in a cast, and deep purple gashes enlaced her neckline. An IV was attached to her good arm.

"Hey, Mark…" she said in a hoarse voice, obviously trying to sound cheery.

Mark sat down in a chair sitting next to her bed, and cautiously scooted up to her. He had covered abuse stories before for Buzzline, and he knew the victims were often very sensitive to touch. Asha sensed this.

"It's ok…I know I'm safe, Mark."

Mark immediately took this gesture and grasped her knotted hand. Asha winced a little, to which Mark immediately loosened his grip.

"Asha…" Mark started cautiously, "why didn't you tell me he was abusing you?"

Asha's eyes instantly filled with tears. "I don't know…" she moaned softly "He's never done that before…I mean, he's verbally abused me…but never physically…"

"Then...do have any idea why?"

Tears now flowed freely down her face. Mark gripped her hand tightly.

"I'm sorry…" Mark said, regretting he had said anything, "I just want to make sure this guy gets put away for as long as possible…"

Asha shook her head. "It's not that…it's just…Mark, he found about us. Having that little get together after work. And all the other times…"

Mark's heart seemed to have stopped. _This is my fault. If I had just left her alone, she wouldn't be here. This is my fault._

Head pounding, Mark let go of Asha's hand. He didn't want to do any more damage than he had already done. He got up from his chair, and, face expressionless, left the room. He heard Asha protesting desperately behind him, but he sadly ignored them. Being there would only put her in more danger

Not aware of his surroundings, Mark wandered through the halls, disregarding the doctors asking if he needed directions. It was though he was in a daze of grief and resentment. Finally, he found himself back in the waiting room.

He saw Roger, Maureen, Joanne, Collins, and Melanie huddled guardedly around the waiting room chairs. He shuffled up to them.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Roger asked gently, putting an arm on Mark's shoulder.

Mark didn't know whether it was the presence of his friends or the realization hitting him, but he broke down. He choked out heartbroken sobs, grateful to feel the arms of Roger, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins around him, as well as Melanie rubbing his back. He could tell she felt misplaced, but nonetheless was comforted by her concern.

Mark was never one to show his emotions freely. But all the events that had happened in the past few hours had pushed him over the edge.

Mark cried for Asha, who had been so unfairly unloved and beaten. Mark cried for the little girl and her mother, who were about to lose a loved one. Mark cried for his friends, the only ones he cared about and who cared about him, who had so little time to live.

But mostly, Mark cried for himself, disheartened, frustrated, and alone.

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**Very sad chapter to write…**

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	10. Questions

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**School's started again, so I've been SUPER busy. Sorry for the long periods of waiting!**

**D**

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Mark's friends tried desperately to get him to go back and talk to Asha. After much coaxing, he reluctantly obliged and ambled sadly up back to her room, while the others waited in the room.

The door to Asha's room was already open, so Mark slowly walked in. Asha looked solemnly down at her hands, tears dripping down her face.

"Mark…" she tried to start, but her emotions got the best of her. She pressed her face into her hands, sobbing. Mark let out a little sigh, and walked on the other side of her.

Without a word, he slipped into her bed, put one arm around her shoulders, and wrapping the other in front of her, clasping his hands together at her shoulder.

Asha slowly rested her head into the crook of his neck, soaking his shirt with tears. Mark rocked her a little, but didn't shush her, only holding her.

Neither of them said anything. But they didn't need to.

**Insert line here**

Melanie felt extremely out-of-place. Sure, she had gone to dinner with these people, and she was starting to become good friends of them. But she still felt like the outsider in such a close knit group. Nonetheless, she and Roger had planned to go out to lunch together this afternoon, and when Roger called her this morning about what was going on, she happily obliged to go and support Mark.

She sat next to Roger, uncomfortably jiggling her feet up and down. Hospitals always made her nervous.

A nurse walked up to the bohemians. "Are you the friends of Mark Cohen?" she asked.

They all nodded.

She smiled. "Mr. Cohen wanted to let you all know that he and Ms. Moore are alright. He said you can all visit her in a moment."

They thanked her for the message, and returned to waiting impatiently.

Only Roger had ever met Asha, when he stopped at the Life once. However, because of Mark, they all felt a need to be there for her.

A young man sat down opposite of the bohemians. He looked at Roger for a moment, with an odd expression on his face.

"Roger Davis? Is that you?"

Roger looked up, and nodded slowly.

The man grinned. "It's me, Matt! From Life Support!"

Roger nervously grinned back at him, shifting his weight in his seat. Melanie, so far, hadn't noticed. "Hey...how are you?"

"Good…well, could've been better, I'm here for treatment…" He trailed off for a moment, then looked at Melanie.

"I'm sorry, I should've introduced myself. I'm Matt."

"Melanie," she said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Are you Roger's sister?"

Melanie giggled, then took Roger's hand. "No, I'm his girlfriend."

A confused look crossed Matt's face. "What happened to Mimi?"

Roger's ears turned a bright red and Melanie instantly let go of Roger's hand, her features stony.

"We broke up, but…she died…a year or two ago…" Roger mumbled.

"Oh…" replied Matt, obviously embarrassed "I'm so sorry…Anyways, I haven't seen you at Life Support anymore!"

"Life Support?" Melanie asked, turning to Roger. "Life Support for what?"

"AIDS. We meet once or twice a week, and Roger and Meems came a lot…"

Melanie shot Roger a strange look. She stuttered a bit, looking from Matt to Roger.

_Davis? AIDS? No…_

Melanie fought with herself, thinking there must have been some mistake. But when she saw Roger looking at her, regret and sadness written all over his face, she knew it was true.

Matt realized he made a large mistake.

"I'll see you around…" he muttered, taking his coat, and walking outside.

Melanie's world stopped. The din of the waiting room seemed silenced. It felt like only she and Roger were in the room.

"You're…you're HIV positive…" Melanie asked quietly, doubt creeping into her voice.

Roger could see no way out of this. He didn't respond, but Melanie knew what the answer was.

"I can't believe this…I can't believe you kept this from me…" She got up, shaking her head, and stormed off into the gardens outside.

"Mel…" Roger sprinted after her, stopping about four feet where she was standing.

"Melanie…I'm sorry I didn't tell you…but what was I supposed to do?"

"Tell me. You were supposed to tell me! Don't you think I should know whether you had a fatal disease or not?"

For a moment, all that was heard was the wind whistling through the tall grass.

Roger took her shoulder. "Please, just hear me out-"

Melanie shook her head, temporarily enraged. "No…I've been hurt too many times by secrets and lies, and I'm not going to be again!" Suddenly, her voice softened, and her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Roger…"

She shrugged off his hand, and slowly turned away from the hospital, not looking back.

Roger knew there was no point. Silently, he sank down onto a bench, not crying, not moving. Just thinking sadly…

_Why does it always end this way?_

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**Sorry for the shortness…**

**Keep reviewing, please!**

**Chap. 11 up soon!**


	11. Sixteen Again

**Thanks for your lovely reviews!**

**Hope you are still enjoying the story.**

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_**Asha's POV**_

"This is Collins, Maureen, and Joanne…"

I forced a smile, and shook the hands of a kindly-looking man, a beautiful brunette whose personality seemed as big as her hair, and an equally beautiful African American girl, who seemed attached to the hip of the brunette, but she was incredibly uptight.

I felt a little like a cute, wounded puppy. Everyone had concern in their eyes, whether it was sincere or not, I'm not sure. If Mark hadn't been sitting next to me, I probably would have blown my top, telling them to _stop staring at me_!

"So…how's life at the Life?" the brunette, Maureen, asked.

She chuckled at her own joke. The pretty black girl, Joanne, I think, tittered as well.

I swallowed a bit, as best I could. My throat was severely scratched and swollen.

"It's not bad," I started, "…better than being a stripper, I guess."

"Hey!" Maureen suddenly interrupted, getting defensive. "What's wrong with being a stripper? Our best FRIEND was a stripper-"

Mark and Joanne, thankfully, shot Maureen a death glare, which shut her up.

I couldn't help but smile at the pouted look on her face. "Sorry…I didn't know," I said.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Collins became fascinated with mauve hospital curtains, and Joanne kept checking her watch.

Trying to make conversation, I sighed a little and turned to Mark. "So…where's your other friend? Rod…Ralph, or something…"

"Roger?" Collins cut in. "I don't know…"

Mark shrugged. "I'm sure he'll come up here soon."

There was a bit of commotion in the hallway. Mark, Collins, and I looked a bit confused, but Joanne sighed.

"Paparazzi…"she said, rolling her eyes.

Oh, HELL no. I was not going to be broadcasted like this, on the verge of an emotional and physical meltdown.

My thoughts must have been written all over my face, because Maureen patted my good arm reassuringly.

"Don't worry, we'll get rid of them. They're only here for us."

She gave Mark, Collins, and I a kiss on the cheek. I was a bit taken aback, but I couldn't hold back a smile. Although she seemed wild, she had a good heart.

Maureen and Joanne gave us a quick wave, then scurried out of my room. There was an instant uproar, and I was momentarily blinded by the flashing of cameras. My whole body tensed, praying they could hoard off the media. Finally, the hubbub died in the distance, and the normal din of a hospital returned.

I relaxed a little.

Wanting to change the subject, I leaned my head against Mark's shoulder.

"You sure Roger's alright?" I asked softly.

Mark winced in concern. "I don't know…He and Melanie walked out for a while and I didn't see either of them walk back in…"

"Yeah…" Collins added, "I could've sworn they were talking to some kid from Life Supp-"

Suddenly, realization crossed both their faces. Without another word, Collins turned on his heel, and walked briskly out of the room. I was incredibly confused, oblivious to who Melanie was and what was going on.

Mark looked at me, his eyes shining with worry.

"Roger and Melanie are dating…"

"But what's this about Life Support?"

Mark closed his eyes for a moment, a look of pain crossing his face. "Roger's…HIV Positive…"

The pieces all fit together. Roger obviously did not tell Melanie about this, until she accidentally found out. And who would? How could you tell someone that?

Mark slowly stood up, but grasped my hand. "Asha…I-"

I smiled, knowing what he was going to say. "Go. Be with him. I think he needs you more than I do."

What Mark did next I was not expecting at all.

He pressed one of his warm palms to the side of my cheek. Slowly, he leaned in until our noses lightly brushed each other. Then, smiling a bit, he gently pressed his lips to mine.

I felt like I was sixteen again, experiencing my first kiss. My cheeks flushed, my palms felt sweaty…I felt gross and clammy, and yet, also felt like the luckiest, most beautiful girl in the world.

I did not want to break apart, but of course we did. Those blissful few seconds had to end sometime.

He kissed my hand, then backed out of my room.

I leaned back, sighing loudly and romantically. Despite me being hooked up to five machines whose names I couldn't pronounce, despite I lay in a hospital bed bruised and battered, I laughed giddily for the first time in three days.

I must be in love.

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**Had to end it on a good note after so many angsty chapters.**

**Sorry, I know that wasn't my best writing. It'll get better…**

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**Update coming soon, I hope!**


	12. Numb to Pain

**Hey guys!**

**Hope you still love the story, and I want to update more often!!**

**So, I've decided when RENT 15 rolls around, I am flying to New York, sleeping outside the Tckts thing in Times Square, and getting front rows seats. **

**Who wants to meet me there? D**

**D. I'm such a RENThead.**

**Anyways…**

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_**Roger's POV**_

The wind rustles the leaves, and a flash of red and orange whirl around me. A slight breeze chills the air.

And yet, I feel nothing.

I am numb. I didn't know going through the experience three times could break you like this. But it does.

So, this is my new path. I will live the rest of my life, unfeeling. Dull to any biting sting of regret, or sheltered from the icy grasp of heartache.

I'm sure you're wondering, why not suicide?

Suicide only blankets you in the pain you felt earlier, only it's stronger. It never lets go, even after you draw your final breath.

Why can't my friends comfort me?

No one, no matter what they have gone through, can feel what you are feeling at that time. It doesn't matter whether they take your hand, stroke your hair, rub your back. They will never feel the throbbing ache that pulses through your veins with every breath you take.

So, I will become immortal to pain. I will live my life simple, freely, and numbly.

And yet, as I sit here, by the grave of the woman I loved for so long, I don't feel any rush of relief. The ache of my regret does not ebb away. While it does not strengthen, it does not let up either.

Slowly, I trace the letters of her name. Maria Gilda Marquez. A simple name for such an extraordinary person.

I realize, as my hand brushes over the dates, that it's been almost two years. Two years since yet another person I loved left me.

I sit up cross-legged on the soft grass. I close my eyes, thinking.

When you lose someone, are you supposed to forget them, or keep them as a cherished memory? If you forget them, does it become easier each day to wipe them away from your mind? Or there a constant reminder that they were once part of your life?

You know the answer, I think to myself. You're just denying it. You can never truly forget someone. They are part of you who are. They make you who you are.

Then I remember meeting Mimi after April. While her death was still fresh in my mind, I didn't feel grieved for long.

I feel so stupid for saying my friends can't comfort me.

Mimi didn't know what I was going through. That didn't matter.

She found a way to raise me up, to stand me on my feet. She loved me.

Finally, the dots connected in my head.

I'm supposed to feel this way. I'm supposed to feel like there's no hope. And yet, I find someone who loves me. Love heals the aches and pains.

I smile, for the first time that day, tears sliding down my cheeks.

I press my lips to the cold marble, whispering "'Bye, Meems," as I do so.

Then I pull myself up, and walk out of the cemetery, with only one person in mind.

Melanie.

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**Whoa. That was super deep…no more deep chapters for me. jk**

**I only have a few more chapters to write…I think.**

**Sorry, I know it's been forever and this is super short. I swear I'll get a move on. D**

**Keep reviewing!**


	13. No Day But Today

**Sorry, I know it's been forever and five months, and you are probably all pissed at me.**

**I wasn't sure whether it was ready to be posted or not.**

**I made 10,000 revisions to it, so I think it's good now.**

**Thank you for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Hey Jude." It's such a beautiful song by the Beatles.**

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"Mel! Come on!" Roger cried from outside Melanie's apartment.

He had gotten there a few minutes ago, but Melanie had yet to appear.

Finally, Roger saw a silhouette shuffle towards the window. The blinds were raised, and Melanie opened the window. Even from where he was standing, he could tell her face was tear-stained.

"Mel, please. Hear me out."

"I already did," she answered, her voice hoarse. "I'm not going to deal with it."

"But I love youl!"

To his surprise, Melanie looked completely taken aback. "…what?" she asked in disbelief, after awhile.

Grinning ear to ear, and throwing his arms in the air, Roger yelled "I FUCKING LOVE YOU, MELANIE MADDOX!"

"Davis!" she hissed, but Roger could see her fighting back a watery smile.

Bringing his arms down, he walked a little closer to the building.

"Please. Don't make me get my guitar, and sit here all night playing love songs…"

She hesitated, then closed the window. After waiting for what seemed like forever, Roger breathed a sigh of relief as Melanie walked out of her building.

She was no longer all smiles, however. "Roger…I'm not sure I can do this…" she said, her voice thick with tears.

"Why not?"

She bit her lip, looking wistfully at him.

"Because I can't stand the thought of losing you…" she whispered.

Roger gently pulled her into his arms, kissing the side of her head.

"You don't have to…" he murmured.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other. Then Melanie mumbled something that Roger didn't quite catch.

Pulling apart from her for a second, he questioned what she had said.

Swallowing her tears, and her face breaking out into a goofy smile, she said bluntly. "I said, I fucking love you, too."

Mark walked back to Asha's room, relieved after hearing his friend was okay.

To his surprise, she was dressed in her normal clothes, her purse in hand.

"Hey!" she exclaimed after seeing him "Is Roger okay?"

Mark walked over to her and slipped an arm around her waist. "He and Melanie are getting back together as we speak." He pulled her in for a deep kiss.

Asha pulled away, just a little. Mark looked into her eyes, searching. "What?"

She bit her lip. "Nothing…it's just…I feel like we're rushing into this…I want to make sure that it lasts."

"Okay…"

"I know I sound scared, I just want it right…I think I'm falling in love with you…"

Mark turned a deep shade of red, but broke into a smile, nonetheless.

"Alright, shall we start over then?" he asked, offering his hand.

Asha grinned as she entwined her fingers with his. "Yeah, let's start over…"

The two walked hand in hand out of the hospital.

Meanwhile, Maureen, Joanne, and Collins had headed back to the loft. Maureen had graciously stopped at the supermarket, and bought $100 worth of junk food. As they sat in the loft, various bags of chips, boxes of chocolates, and five bottles of wine, vodka, and beer were spread out in front of them.

"It's so cute how everyone's in love lately," said Maureen as she plopped onto couch.

"Except me," sighed Collins, sadly munching some chips.

"Oh, Collins. You know she's waiting up there for you," comforted Joanne, rubbing his leg.

"So…" started Collins, wanting to change the subject, "how long are you guys staying?"

"Until next week," replied Joanne.

Maureen thoughtfully chewed on some Twizzlers.

"Actually, Pookie, I was thinking we could move back here…"

Joanne looked blankly at her at first, then started to shake her head. "Maureen…"

"Oh, come on!" she pleaded "I miss all you guys, and I'm sick of living in that shitty paparazzi watering hole!"

"You know what John will say…"

"Who gives a fuck what John says?!" she screeched crazily, throwing her arms in the air.

Collins waved his hands. "Wait, wait, wait. Who the hell is John?"

"Her publicist," Joanne replied with an eye roll. "and probably the biggest friggin' Nazi in Los Angeles."

"Come on, Pookie! Pleeeeeeease?" Maureen begged, sticking out her lower lip.

Joanne thought about it for a minute, then sighed, defeated. "I'll talk to him."

"Yes!" Maureen exclaimed, bouncing on the couch and sending chips and vodka flying towards the floor.

"For God's sake, DON'T WASTE THE ALCOHOL," grumbled Collins, picking up a spilled bottle of vodka and taking a long swig from it.

Just in that moment, Roger stumbled happily into the loft.

"Hey…uh, what are you doing?"

"Getting drunk and fat," responded Maureen with a ridiculous grin, "want some?"

"Gladly," he said, taking the beer Maureen had offered him, and flopping down next to her on the couch.

"I wish Mimi were here," Joanne piped up sadly, "…she always made that amazing dark chocolate fudge."

"It's been two years today," Collins said softly.

Roger's eyes widened. He not completely forgotten, of course, but he hadn't realized it came up so soon. The last few days had been a bit of a whirlwind.

"Well," started Maureen, standing up and wiping crumbs off her t-shirt, "we're not going to sit here and be depressed. I'm getting some candles."

She disappeared into the loft bedroom. After a few minutes, she came out with about five candles in her hands, and pack of matches in her teeth.

Just before Maureen started to light them, Roger couldn't help but stop her. "Maureen…it's still light outside…"

Maureen gave a pouty eye roll. "Fine…I'll wait until this evening."

"Are you going to visit her grave?" asked Joanne cautiously.

Roger nodded. "We'll wait until Mark gets back. Then we'll all go."

"We should see Angel, too. They were so close together…" Maureen added.

Everyone agreed. As soon as Mark (also stumbling in happily) arrived back at the loft, the group grabbed two candles and Roger's guitar and headed off towards the cemetery, stopping only to buy two pink roses.

First, the group went to Angel. Collins laid the rose by tomb, and lit one candle next to it.

"I love you and I miss you like crazy, babe," he whispered, blowing a kiss.

After seeing Angel, everyone soon shifted over to Mimi's grave, which was right next to Angel's, of course.

This time, Roger laid the rose by the tomb.

"I may have found someone else, but that doesn't make it any easier without you, Meems…" he said softly, as he lit the candle.

The group sat down in between the two tombstones, and slowly Roger began to softly play his guitar, singing as well.

_Hey, Jude, don't make it bad  
Take a sad song and make it better  
Remember to let her into your heart  
Then you can start to make it better _

_Hey, Jude, don't be afraid  
You were made to go out and get her  
The minute you let her under your skin  
Then you begin to make it better. _

_And any time you feel the pain, hey, Jude, refrain  
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders  
Well don't you know that it's a fool who plays it cool  
By making his world a little colder _

_Hey, Jude! Don't let her down  
You have found her, now go and get her  
Remember, to let her into your heart  
Then you can start to make it better. _

_Better, better, better, better, better, better._

_Na Na Na_

_Na Na Na Na_

_Na Na Na Na_

_Hey Jude_

_Na Na Na_

_Na Na Na Na_

_Na Na Na Na_

_Hey Jude_

The song finished, the last note resinating in the chilly November air. Roger set down his guitar, put his face in his hands, and broke into heartbroken sobs. Mark gently wrapped his arms around his friend, as did everyone else in the group.

Everyone finally shed their last tears, pulling away from each other for a moment.

"Mimi's probably up there bitching and yelling at Angel… _What the hell are they doing,_ _crying __again_?" Roger sniffed, imitating Mimi in a high-pitched voice.

Everyone chuckled. Then they all got up, said one last goodbye, and left the graveyard, heading back to the loft.

As if he had read everyone's minds, Mark got out his projector as soon as they got back. Maureen lit candles, and Collins pulled out Angel's favorite fuzzy blanket. Roger even ceremioniously turned off the heat and lit a fire with Mark's screenplays in one of their trashcans, opening the windows as well.

The Bohemians huddled together on the couch, as the opening footage of "Today 4 U" rolled.

Throughout the movie, the Bohemians laughed themselves dancing widly at the Life Café, mooed with Maureen during the protest, drummed along with Angel as she grooved her way about the loft, and fell into a sad silence as they watched the smiles of their two friends fade from the screen.

As the last shot of Angel rolled, everyone gripped each other tightly, knowing there was truly no day but today.

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**There's only an epilogue left.**

**Review! **

**I might write a sequel to this, I'm not sure yet.**


	14. Being an Us, For Once

_**One year later…**_

Mark Cohen sat perched on the windowsill of his loft, looking out into the city.

_Christ_ he thought _I'm 35. Just in time for my mid-life crisis._

Asha Cohen shuffled out of the bedroom she and her husband shared. She walked over to Mark, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You're up awfully early for a change," she said sleepily, kissing him on the forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," he replied half-heartedly, not sure whether he should be celebrating or realizing his life was slowly ending.

Asha walked over to their hot plate, heated up an old pot of coffee, and poured cups for both of them. She pressed a warm mug into Mark's icy hands, and sat on the other side of him.

"Who's all coming to my 'surprise' party?" Mark asked grimly.

Asha giggled. "It wasn't my fault you and Maureen had a vodka night and she blurted it out." Mark rolled his eyes. "Mo, Jo, Collins, and Benny are definitely coming-"

Mark spat out his coffee. "Benny? As in Benjamin Coffin III??"

Asha nodded. "I know. Apparently, he's back in town. He remembered about your birthday, and called here. I had to offer him to come. Sorry, dear. Anyway, Mel and Allie are going to try. Mel's not sure she's up to it."

Mark nodded sadly. Roger died only about a month ago. Although everyone knew it was coming, the Bohemians were devastated. None more, though, than Melanie. All of them had spent many late nights over at her apartment, comforting her sobs.

She was getting better, but she was still in a haze of depression. Mark never saw her very often, but when he did, she didn't ever look him straight in the eyes or smiled.

Mark spent the rest of the day sitting there. He reminisced about the past year or two, and everything that had happened to them. _It doesn't matter how old we get_ he chuckled to himself _a million things happen to us._

Just before leaving, Mark dug around in his chest of drawers, and pulled out his trusty, old camera. He bought a digital one a long time ago, but somehow he was still attached to this one. Blowing off the dust and checking to make sure it worked (it did, miraculously), he tucked it into his jacket.

**Insert line here!**

As Mark entered the Life Café, he was happy to see Maureen, Joanne, both whom had flown in from Los Angeles for the occasion (Despite Maureen doing everything she possibly could, including a full-frontal sex show, she couldn't convince her publicist to keep her in New York), Collins and Benny sitting comfortably in the chairs.

Mark took off his scarf, and sat next Collins, Asha on his other side. As he chatted with his friends, Asha laced her fingers with his underneath the table. Mark still got a bubbling rush whenever she did that. Their marriage had been hasty, but the perfect decision. The two had only become closer.

The doorbell jingled, and a rush of late November air filled the little restaurant. Pink-cheeked and huffing from the cold, Melanie briskly walked in, gripping tightly on Allie's hand, who was more than aggravated at having her mother drag her to parties she didn't want to go to.

Mark grinned from ear to ear, to which Melanie returned. To see her so strong after that hard month was incredibly rewarding.

"Hey, Markie," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "How's the birthday boy?"

"Old," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Everyone chuckled

As the waiter gave everyone a large, frosted glass of beer, Maureen tapped her fork against it.

The entire room fell silent.

"So, I'm not going to make a big speech or anything, but I just want to let Mr. Birthday Boy over here that we all love you. Otherwise, we wouldn't have left warm California or go outside in the freezing cold to be here. Happy Birthday, Mark."

"Hear, hear!" Collins cried.

Everyone in the restaurant raised their glasses, and took a long swig.

When Mark set down his glass, he climbed on to the table, spread out his arms, and with a little laugh, began to sing.

"Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes…"

**THE END**

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**Thanks for reading!**

**Hope you liked it.**

**Review, please.**

**Sorry for the incredulously long updates. **


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